


Lives of the Heroes

by Mamazero



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:25:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3324092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mamazero/pseuds/Mamazero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life carries on after the dust has settled.  Life, love, joy, sweat and tears, what will come to pass in the years that follow?</p><p>*This story was started before Trespasser and therefore does NOT follow that timeline.*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_She moaned, fingers digging into his forearms where she held onto him as if letting go would mean she would fall, tumble through time and space itself. He was wreaking havoc on her senses in an entirely pleasurable way. The scent of him, like damp soil and elfroot, with something headier and basal mixed in._ _The feel of him, long slender fingers ghosting along her sides while their mirrored fellows cradled her neck, lacing themselves in her hair. His lips fluttering down her jawline to her neck, finding the sensitive spot over her pulse and pressing harder. The sound of him, breaths coming out in heavy gasps. A small yet soothing rumble emanating from his chest sending small vibrations of pleasure coursing through her body and a warm heat to settle between her legs. The sight of him, a light flush dusting his high cheeks and spreading across to reach the sharp points of his ears. His grey-blue eyes half closed and yet sending delightful shivers of anticipation through her. The taste of him, soft and warm, yet refreshing and almost sweet,_ _like the first sip of a fine Antivian brandy._

 

 

 _“Ar lath ma, vhenan.” His words whispered, his breath fanning over her cheek and brushing her ear. Her body shuddering in response and drawing another, louder moan from her lips. “_ _Abelas, ma vhenan. Ma nuvenin sahlin then.”_

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Mythara awoke with a start, sitting straight up and panting. With one trembling hand, she wiped the sweat that had formed on her brow and the other she placed protectively on her swollen belly. It had been nearly three years since she had dreamed of that time, and it worried her that she would dream of _him_ now, when she was so close to birthing her second child.

 

 

“M'thara? Is something wrong?” The voice was thick with sleep, but even with her troubled thoughts, it brought a smile to her face. Next to her, the naked form of her husband shifted to prop himself up on one elbow and gently reached out to place a comforting hand on the hand over her stomach.

 

 

Mythara shook her head, letting out a deep sigh but the smile never fading. “I'm fine Cullen, just a bad dream is all.” She let her eyes drift over his slightly confused and sleep addled continence before running her fingers through his thick curly hair, her hand coming to rest on his cheek. “Go back to sleep dear, it's early yet and you may still get more rest. I think I'm going to go check on Fenlen and maybe check with Josie to ensure everything is in place for our guests.”

 

 

“Alright, should you need me...” he let the words drift off, she knew what he meant and gave him a reassuring smile. One that earned her a smile in return. Without another word, he turned his head and kissed her palm before settling himself back down on the bed. She took another deep breath and closed her eyes, calming herself before setting out on her tasks. She released the deep breath in one swift exhalation, and listened to the steady, rhythmic breathing coming from the man next to her.

 

Opening her eyes, she slowly swung her legs, one at a time, over the edge of the bed. Steeling her resolve, she hoisted herself to her feet with some measure of difficulty. Her hand coming to rest on her belly, the life within stirred as if protesting the sudden movement. Rubbing idle circles on the taught skin she smiled and shook her head, she couldn't remember getting quite this large with Fenlen, the difference between carrying an elven child and an elf-blooded child she supposed. Coming back from her idle thoughts, she quietly walked to the end of the large bed and grabbed the silken robe that was draped around one of the bedposts. She shrugged the robe into place on her shoulders and tied it into place while heading down the stairs towards the door. Quietly as she could, Mythara slipped out into the hall and headed in the direction of her son's room.

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

Mythara knelt before the small bed, a tear slipping down her freckled cheek despite the smile on her face. Gently, she reached forward to brush an errant lock of fine, black hair away from the sleeping child's face. His breath hitched for a moment before it settled back into the soft rhythm that marked his sleep. The calm that rested on his features bringing more tears to his mother's eyes.

 

“Ma enansal. Ma da'len. Abelas, Fenlen.” Mythara whispered, softly stroking his downy cheek, while tears freely streamed down her face. “I wonder if he would have come back to us, if he knew about you...” She sat, lost in her own thoughts for a time. Her eyes drifted to the small window, noting the soft pinks and oranges that marked the rising of the sun. Calming her nerves with as deep a breath as she could, she sighed and wiped the moisture from her face before standing and slipping out the door. She still had much to do, and the earlier she start, the better.

 

Mythara walked down the hall from her son's room, and pulled open the door that separated her family's quarters from the rest of the keep. She stepped into the great hall and was relieved to find it mostly empty save for one lone figure by the fire. She smiled at the spymaster, he had been an old friend of Leliana's, someone who could do the job just as well, if not better then herself, or so she had told Mythara. She had been told that in his youth, he had been one of the best assassins the Crow's had in their employ. The elven man had taken over the responsibilities when Leliana had been chosen as the next Divine. It was sheer luck that he had fallen into their lap when duties had called Leliana to Val Royeaux. The spymaster and his lover had been roaming the uncharted wilds far to the west in search of a cure for the Calling that marked the nearing end of life for Grey Wardens. Their research had been fruitful and they had been on their way to Denerim to share the antidote of sorts with King Alistair.

 

“Good morning Zevran, someone having trouble sleeping?” Mythara gestured to the sleeping child in his lap, a small wisp of a girl, not much younger then her own Fenlen. The resemblance to her mother was striking and the child was a beautiful girl with bright blue eyes and a mop of light red hair. The only thing that the girl had inherited from her father was her skin tone, it wasn't quite as dark as his, yet several shades darker then her mother's.

 

“Yes well, my lovely wife is reaching an uncomfortable point in her own current pregnancy and while there was plenty of room for three of us before, there is little room for two of us at present, and so when the child came to us in the night, I offered to leave the other two to rest. I was correct in assuming I would get more restful sleep out here then I would have there. Besides, Rinna is my daughter and I would feel selfish asking either of them to take care of her now.” Zevran responded to the question, giving Mythara a smile and smoothing down a wild lock of his daughter's sleep tangled hair. He shifted in place and slowly lifted his legs as best he could to prop his feet up on the table. Mythara smiled and nodded, squeezing his shoulder as she passed by on her way to Josie's quarters.

 

 

Mythara had taken to the Grey Warden like a moth to a flame. Lady Cara was a breath of fresh air and being a fellow Dalish meant they had much in common. The only thing that Mythara hadn't quite understood at the time was the nature of Cara's relationship with her two companions. From what she had been told, Cara had fallen in love with Zevran while traveling across Fereldan during the Fifth Blight. After they and their fellows had defeated the Archdemon, they had wed. After the uprising in Kirkwall however, they had been approached by an old friend of Zevran's, Isabela, and asked if they would watch over and keep one of her companions safe. The warrior had been a lover of Hawke's and had not taken the end of the relationship very well. He had become self destructive and lost in a way. Fenris was, quite plainly put, one of the oddest elves that Mythara had ever come to meet. His dark skin was marked by glowing lines of lyrium, and he had stark white hair. He was also almost a full head taller then Zevran, who was of average height for an elven man. They had, by what she could gather, all grown very close, including, to her surprise, Zevran and Fenris. Cara commented once that it warmed her heart to know that should anything ever happen to one of them, no matter which one, what children they had would still have two parents who loved each other and them. Something that she herself hadn't had growing up. And so there they were, the three of them. Shortly after they had arrived at Skyhold and agreed to stay, Cara had given Zevran a daughter, Rinna. They had, however, announced that Cara was expecting a child with Fenris, around the same time that Mythara herself had announced the upcoming arrival of a child between herself and Cullen. Such news brightened her heart to know that her friend and herself would be going through this adventure together.

 

 

Mythara slipped into the small room that was the transition between the great hall and her ambassador's quarters. She pressed her back to the door as it closed and let her head fall back with eyes closed. Her dream had shaken her more then she had initially thought and she had to take several more calming breaths to steady herself.

 

Cullen.

 

That one had been a slight surprise to everyone. Mythara included. While her and the Commander had grown close as friends, she had never thought him anything other then someone to confide in, someone she trusted with her life. So after the final battle with Corypheus, when Solas disappeared and she was distraught, Cullen was the one she was drawn to. He had taken her into his arms that day and comforted her like one would a child as her body was wracked with sobs. They spent much time in each others company in the days that followed, and he was again, her only form of comfort the day she discovered that her last union with her elven lover had bore fruit. Even with the knowledge that she was with child, a child that was not his, he chose to stay by her side. As time went on, feelings blossomed, and while Mythara would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she still had stronger feelings for the man that left, she did love the good man that was by her side now. Cullen had proven himself a wise choice and a good man many times over since then. When Fenlen was born, he was the first besides herself to hold the child, and he had wept tears of joy at the child's arrival. The knowledge that he loved her so much, that he would be so overjoyed with the birth of a child to her that wasn't his, is what gave her the courage to accept his proposal of marriage. That was just over two years ago, and since then, not a day has gone by that she wasn't grateful for the man who didn't even think to treat her son as anything other then his own.

 

 

Mythara opened her eyes and pushed herself away from the door with determination. They were expecting guests at Skyhold later today and she needed to pull herself together. After all, it isn't every day that one hosted the king. King Alistair had sent word that he had business in Orlais with Emperor Gaspard and had asked if he could make rest at Skyhold on his way back with his wife Anora and their son Duncan. Of course Josie, as ambassador, had insisted that they extend a formal invitation despite the Inquisitor's current state. She had assured Mythara that from what she had heard, the royal family was expecting a new addition themselves, and any apprehension Mythara felt had slowly ebbed away.

 

 

With a steady hand Mythara pulled open the door and stepped in the quiet study. The only sounds to be heard were the crackle of the fire and the delicate scribbles of pen on parchment. The ambassador sat quietly behind her desk, her full attention on whatever orders she was undoubtedly writing down. Mythara had no doubt in her mind however that the woman was fully aware of her presence in the room. She closed the door as silently as she possibly could so as to not disturb Josie, and slowly made her way across the room to sit in the plush chair in front of the desk.

 

 

“Inquisitor. You are up early this morning, does something trouble you?” Josie looked up from her letter, the smile on her face meant to greet her friend, quickly dissipating. “Mythara?” She slowly rose from her chair, concern etched on her features.

 

 

“Josie….I think….I think the baby's coming…..” Mythara sat, clutching her distended belly with a grimace marring her features. The tension in her voice and the pain on her face spurred the Ambassador into action, before Mythara was fully aware of what was going on, Josephine was at the door, calling for anyone near to wake the Commander and alert the midwife.

 

This day just got a lot more interesting.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some lovely fluffy smut between the inky and our dashing Commander. Set about 6 years after the first chapter. Yes, my story will be making time jumps here and there. More of a collection of memories.

He trailed kisses along her jaw, fumbling with the buckles and straps that held his armor in place. She was working the buttons free on her tunic, her hands much steadier then his. A smile pulled at her lips at his mounting frustration. His movements were becoming stilted and almost frantic. He growled in frustration, abandoning his station where he had settled on her earlobe.

 

“Blasted buckles, blighted armor! Maker take it all!” He ground out between clenched teeth. She smiled, there it was, the culmination of his frustrations. She gave him a toothy smile, and chuckled.

 

“Cullen dear, patience.” Mythara stood on her toes and placed a deep kiss on his lips, eliciting an appreciative groan from the man. She wordlessly turned her attentions to removing his armor, to be honest, she was surprised with the fact that he had been as patient as he had. Her husband had returned from a performing a personal favor for King Alistair earlier in the evening and had waited until the children were asleep before he decided to ravish her. It could have been because he had only been gone a month this time instead of the several months he was usually gone if he had reason to leave Skyhold. Or it could have been that their children were old enough to start asking questions, questions that he had no desire to answer yet, if he could actually manage to answer them at all. The memory of him trying to find words to answer their four year old daughter when she had asked him why she heard mommy calling out to the elven gods, was enough to bring even a pink tinge to Spymaster Zevran's ears.

 

“Everything went as planned then? No unexpected blood magic at play? Just the boring escorting of some holier-than-thou noble?” She asked, trying to distract him so he would stop shifting long enough for her to finish her task.

 

“Not that this is what I want to discuss at this particular moment, but yes. The Arl was most pleased to see that the famous Commander of the Inquisition was going to be accompanying him to Denerim and back.” Cullen wrapped his left arm around Mythara's waist, pulling her closer. He was being patient now, her distraction had worked, much to her relief. She made quick work of the rest of the straps that held his armor in place, finishing only when the bulk of his breastplate along with the pauldrons fell to the floor with a loud _clunk._ He quickly set to work removing his vambraces and gauntlets fluidly while picking up his trail of kisses along the outside edge of her ear. Her eyes fluttered closed and she gave a breathy, quiet moan as his teeth grazed the sensitive, pointed tip. She would have to remember to properly 'thank' Lady Cara for releasing that tidbit of information to Cullen. She had not intended for the man to learn just how sensitive that particular part of elven anatomy truly was. In Orlais, elven ears were the subject of scandalous noble fetishes for good reason.

 

“Maker's breath you're beautiful.” He whispered, his hot breath on her neck leaving her desiring more. Without another word, his mouth descended upon hers, capturing her lips in a needy and somehow gentle kiss. Her deft hands quickly found the hem of his shirt, pulling it up, needing to feel the heat of the flesh underneath. With some hesitation, he pulled his mouth away from hers, but only long enough to pull the offending clothing over his head to be discarded somewhere across the room. With rough, calloused fingers, he pushed her forgotten tunic over her shoulders, and unwound her breast band, exposing her heated skin to the cool mountain air. Her nipples hardened, contracting into small nubs from the mixture of arousal and cold air. With a desire lighting her eyes, she made quick work of untying her breeches, wiggling her hips until they fell to the floor in an untidy heap. Since she had long ago given up on wearing small clothes whenever she could get away with it, she was left standing naked, exposed to her husband for his appreciative gaze.

 His large, rough hands grasped her waist and pulled her closer to him. The hot flesh of their chests pressing, gliding against each other in fluid movements. His left hand slid from it's post on her hip, down the smooth skin of her thigh, hooking around the back of her knee and pulling it up to wrap around his waist. Taking the hint, Mythara wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and wrapped her other leg around his waist, hooking her feet together behind his back. Without stopping his ardent pursual of her mouth, Cullen walked them over to the bed where he gently deposited his wife. She watched, with a wonton lust, as he untied his breeches, kicked off his boots and removed whatever clothing remained to cover his lower body in one swift motion. His gaze met her own and a quizzical smile played at one side of his mouth, a sultry smirk meant to goad on her desire. It worked, as she sat up and pulled him on top of her, wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him into a desperate kiss. Lifting her hips, she ground the heat of her sex against his arousal, eliciting a sound from him caught somewhere between a moan and a grunt. Her tongue danced delicately on his lips, demanding entrance into the warm cavern of his mouth. Much to her delight, he obliged, his lips parting and his own tongue darting out to greet hers.

 

The Commander rolled his hips, pressing his straining arousal against her soft, silken folds and lightly teasing the sensitive nub of her clit. A strangled gasp escaped her as she arched her back. Seizing the opportunity, he wrapped his arms around her, his mouth capturing the soft flesh of her throat. Shifting his hips yet again, he positioned the head of his shaft at her now dripping wet opening, while nipping at the soft skin at the apex of her shoulder and neck. Her arms tightened around his shoulders as she moaned his name, bucking her hips.

 

“Tell me.” His whispered demand so close to her ear was enough to evoke another moan from her, this one almost pleading in nature. He smiled against her neck, knowing that she hated this game, and yet loved it all at the same time. “Tell me Mythara.” He stated again, dragging his teeth against her soft skin.

 

“Fenedhis….Ar nuvenin ma sahlin.” She answered, her voice quiet, begging him. He chuckled, a throaty, deep timbered sound, and shook his head in disapproval. Biting her neck again, as she bucked her hips, trying to force his entrance, he sighed in pleasure.

 

“I don't speak elven, you know that. Tell me in the king's tongue, my love.” She turned out her bottom lip, a pretty pout marring her otherwise beautiful face. He placed a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth before tugging playfully at her bottom lip with his teeth.

 

“I want you. _Need_ you. Now.” Her lightly uttered confession was breathy and her voice pleading. Again, she bucked her hips, seeking him out to fill the emptiness inside her. With a sharp hiss, he obliged, letting himself savor the feel of her wrapping around his aching member. She moaned, a deep and satisfying sound as her head fell back, eyes drifting closed, and back arching, pushing her body against his.

 

“By Andraste, I missed this.” His words fell on her like a tidal wave upon the shore, leaving her breathless and wanting more. He rocked his hips forward, thrusting himself into her fully, down to his base, only to withdraw and do it all over again. Slow and gentle at first, gaining speed and purpose as time crawled on. He could stay like this forever, lost in her depths, not knowing where he ended and she began. Her imploring murmurs and enticing moans were enough to drive him to climax, his pulsating driving her to her own release. A shared cry of ecstasy and heavy, ragged breaths the only audible sound in the room aside from the gentle crackle of the fire in the hearth.

 

He collapsed against the bed, rolling to his back and pulled Mythara against his side. He placed a soft kiss to the crown of her head, relishing in the light smell of dragonthorn that lingered in the soft waves of her raven tresses.

 

“I love you.” The sound of sleep slurring his words ever so slightly. Mythara smiled, placing a small kiss to his shoulder before resting her head there and closing her eyes. Sleep carried them both to the fade swiftly in the aftermath of their reunion. Mythara not even having time to properly respond.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Fenedhis….Ar nuvenin ma sahlin = (curse)...I want/need you now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter

“The boy is exceptionally gifted with magic, my dear. At his age, I was only slightly aware I had any ability in magic, much less had the aptitude to show the measure of control over it that he does.” Dorian confirmed to Mythara before sipping his tea. Mythara shifted uncomfortably in the plush chair adjacent from Dorian's in the library. She was aware that with the raw, natural endowment of magic Fenlen's father possessed there was a chance he would be gifted with it as well. Even with that knowledge, she wasn't quite sure she was ready for it to manifest in her son at the age of nine. Mythara sighed, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. She wasn't quite sure how to handle this delicate situation. Being a rogue herself, she knew how to teach someone to fire an arrow into the small gaps in a foe's armor. When it came to magic however, she was about as knowledgeable as a druffalo was on Orlesian politics.

 

“Dorian, love...Please tell me you'll stay and teach him. I'm not sure there's anyone else I would trust with this.” Mythara looked up, an almost desperate look lighting somewhere behind the striking blues and greens of her eyes. Dorian smiled, the concern etched on her face was adorable to say the least.

 

“For you my dear, of course, but you do have several magi at your beck and call. Any one of whom, I'm sure, would be more then happy to assist you in this matter. Lady Vivienne for instance, would be elated. As would Lady Morrigan or Master Hawke.” Leaning forward, he gently took her hands in his own, a small gesture meant to comfort. “I am, however, touched that you asked me to do this.”

 

“Thank you. This means more to me than you can possibly know. If I asked Vivienne or Hawke to teach Fenlen, it would mean sending him away from Skyhold. With Morrigan, I'm not sure, there is just a distance there, she's still upset with me for taking the knowledge from the Well of Sorrows. If a time comes when her teachings could be beneficial to him, then maybe, but while he is still young, I entrust his education to you.” With a sincere smile in place, Mythara gave Dorian's hands a gentle squeeze. Her children were growing up way to quickly for her liking.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

“It's days like this that I miss the forest most.” Cara leaned forward, propping her elbow up on her raised knee. The other leg tucked neatly underneath her, a sigh escaping her lips. “Where my clan use to stay for the summer, there was this beautiful lagoon capped by a small waterfall. Merrill, Tam and I use to spend most of our time there. Fishing, swimming, relaxing. How easy and carefree those days had been.”

 

“You know,” Mythara started, pushing herself up on her elbows, her legs neatly crossed at the ankles. “Conjuring fond memories of days pasts almost taints the present. I do miss what my life was like before, but I wouldn't change a single thing that happened. It would mean giving up my dearest friends, my husband and my children.” She chanced a lazy glance at her comrade, the edges of her mouth turned up in a small grin.

 

“Truer words have never been spoken.” Cara turned her head to look at her friend, giving her a warm smile. “I don't think I could live without Zev, Fenris, and the kids. I'm not sure I remember what life was like before I was mommy.” The two women broke out in a fit of giggles, enjoying the joke the two of them shared.

 

“Moooommm! Rinna pushed me down and I scraped my elbow.” Tamlen, the eldest of Cara's boys approached the spot under the trees where the two women sat, merrily winding down to chuckles. Without a word, Cara held out her arms and the boy sat, perched in his mother's lap. At just six, the boy was already almost as tall as Mythara's oldest son, Fenlen, who was a full three years older. Mythara shook her head and wondered just how tall that particular one of Cara's four children would be as a man. At this rate, she had to wonder if he wouldn't be taller then his father.

 

“You'll be fine, a few cuts and scrapes give character and leave us with memories that you'll look back on fondly when you're my age.” Cara stroked the boy's severe white hair, placing a soft kiss to the injured appendage. The boy settled in, content for the moment to receive what comfort the protection of his mother's embrace offered. With a broad grin, Cara rested her chin on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. The other children happily running around the courtyard, playing their games and squealing with delight.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, about 3 years since the last chapter.

Shuffling his feet uncomfortably, Fenlen kept his gaze fixed on his exposed toes. Tear stains trailed down his cheeks and a deep crimson blush heated his face, extending all the way to the tips of his pointed ears. Cullen paced back and forth in front of the boy, his own face flushed red with anger. Behind the commander, Mythara sat, cradling Fenlen's younger brother, Falon, in her arms. A deep, fresh gash extending from above the boy's right eye down his face, stopping just before reaching his bottom lip. A scar that almost matched the one his father bore.

 

“Why would you do something so reckless?” Cullen's voice a mask of calm that didn't meet his face. In front of him, Fenlen dipped his head just a little lower, touching his chin to his chest. The boy shifted again, hands clasped behind his back.

 

“I'm sorry, father. It was an accident. I tried to tell Falon that he shouldn't play near the training grounds, but he wouldn't listen. I'm sorry. I tried...” Fenlen's voice quivered as a fresh wash of tears sprang to his eyes and he sniffled. “I tried to heal him. Mamae, emma abelas.”

 

“Fenlen, you must be more careful. The two of you got lucky this time. Falon could have lost his eye. The training grounds are off limits,” Mythara paused, turning her attention to her youngest son in her lap. “to _both_ of you. Falon, sweetie, I know you want to fight like your father does, and you will, but not until you're older. Do you understand why we tell you this now?”

 

“But how _much_ older mamae? I'm already nine! I'll be old soon!” Falon exclaimed, an almost horrified expression on his face. Mythara couldn't help the small chuckle that fluttered past her lips. Leaning forward, she kissed the boy's forehead.

 

“Soon enough da'len. Now go, find master Dorian and see if he can fix you up any more then your brother already has.” Mythara ruffled the boy's hair as he hopped off her lap, running towards the door that lead to the rotunda. She watched him as he hefted open the heavy wooden door and slipped past it, his footsteps echoing off the walls until he was well up the stairs. She turned her attention back to her oldest son, still shuffling uncomfortably where he stood. “Fenlen, come here.”

 

He looked up at her through his eyelashes, not lifting his head. Slowly, he shambled forward, past his father, to stand in front of her. Mythara reached out, cupping his chin with her hand and pulled his face up to look at her. His large, blue and green eyes, a reflection of her own, still held tears. Pushing his black hair out of his face, she kissed his forehead.

 

“You are forgiven, Fenlen. But do not let this happen again. I understand what you were trying to do, and while I appreciate you trying to help, you have to understand that your brother won't be smaller then you for much longer.” Mythara cradled her son's face, forcing him to look at her in the eyes.

 

“He'll get bigger then I am because my father was an elf, and his is a human, right? Mamae? Do you care about Falon and Mia more because their father stayed and mine left before I was born?” Fenlen's questions left Mythara breathless and with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

 

“Ar lath ma, Fenlen. Why would you ever think I would love your brother and sister more then you just because your father left? Who put such thoughts into your mind da'len?” Mythara took a deep breath, calming her nerves, profoundly upset by her son's line of questions.

 

“I overheard some of the soldiers saying how sad it was that the Commander had to raise the bastard child of a mage. Ar lath ma, mamae, but I understand if it's true. I know I tend to cause you and father a lot of trouble.” Fenlen dropped his chin to his chest once again, staring at his feet, unable to meet his mother's gaze. His lower lip quivered, and he felt the tell tale sting of tears behind his eyes. “Perhaps you should send me to study magic with lady Vivienne. That way, I wouldn't make you cry anymore, and you won't have to be ashamed of me.”

 

“Oh da'len….” Mythara pulled her son into a tight hug, concealing her face in his hair. She cried freely, unable to mask her feelings. Without warning, Cullen's arms encircled the two of them. “I could never send you away, Fenlen.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapters are abundant.

Fenlen broke out in a grin as he ran, full tilt, across the courtyard, towards the stairs to the great hall. Clad in nothing but his breeches and a simple fleece vest, he gathered more then a few inquiring looks. The wolf jaw bone amulet, the only thing he had of his father's, was pressed between his bare chest and the bundle of armor in his arms. A muffled scream of rage rumbled from within the building that served as the quartermaster's post and echoed across the yard, silencing several conversations midway. He laughed before launching himself off of the posts that served as the fence around the soldier's training grounds, landing with a loud _thud_ in the middle. He ducked to avoid the swing of his younger brother, Falon's blade, before chancing a glance behind him.

 

“Andraste's tits Fenlen! What in the world…?” Falon bellowed at his brother before being cut off from his question by another shriek of rage from the building across the way. Fenlen's eyes widened as Rinna, bright pink with anger, emerged from the quartermaster's shop wearing nothing but her leggings and breast band.

 

“ _ **Fenlen!!!**_ I _swear_ I'll kill you when I get my hands on you!” Rinna cried out, eyes narrowing when she spotted him, crouching, in the middle of the training circle. Without a moment's hesitation, she bolted towards him, deep auburn hair wildly trailing behind her.

 

“You have to catch me first lethallan!” Fenlen tossed over his shoulder while dashing for the stairs once again. Once he reached the stairs, he hurriedly ascended them, two at a time, all the while laughing at the string of curses from behind him. He raced through the great hall, throwing out muttered apologies here and there while dodging his way through the crowd. Upon reaching the heavy door that separated his family's living quarters from the rest of the keep, he fumbled with the handle, trying to pull it open with one hand while keeping a hold of the armor in his arms with the other.

 

Fenlen finally managed to get a hold on the door, and threw his weight against it, almost knocking himself off his feet. He rushed through, jetting towards his quarters at the end of the hall, not even bothering to close the door behind him. He had just managed to make it into his quarters when Rinna caught him. Slamming the door behind herself, Rinna pinned him with a dour look. She was angry. Very angry.

 

“I caught you.” She panted, drawing heavy, ragged breaths. “Why did you decide to steal my newly crafted armor?” She slowly circled around him, poised and ready to strike, trying to determine whether or not he would take off again. Determining him not to be a flight risk, she softened her stance.

 

“Well….I got your attention, didn't I?” Fenlen smirked, a playful grin he reserved just for her. Rinna stopped in front of him, raising a questioning eyebrow before walking towards him. He backed away from her, towards his bed, until he felt the plush throw hit the backs of his legs. Twisting his body, he gently deposited her armor on the bed, still maintaining eye contact.

 

“You did. You still have it, even now.” Rinna took another step forward, her warm breath fanning over his bare chest and abdomen. “Do tell me, why did you want it so badly, lethallin?” He watched her, silently, grin still in place. The ethereal blues and greens in his eyes always startled her, and she shifted under his gaze. Slowly, a smile pulled at the edges of her mouth.

 

“Well, today _is_ my eighteenth birthday….” Fenlen said before reaching a hand forward and cupping her cheek. Her eyes flickered closed as she leaned into the touch. “I think that fact alone is deserving of some attention. Don't you?” He asked calmly, taking a step toward her, closing the gap.

 

“Perhaps. What would you ask of me?” Rinna opened her eyes, tilting her head back to look at Fenlen head on. Her breath hitched as his fingers found their way to her hair, holding her there as he brought his face closer. His hot breath brushing across her face, their lips almost touching.

 

“Nothing you aren't willing to give freely.” Fenlen whispered, her lids suddenly too heavy to hold open, Rinna's eyes drifted shut once again. The pad of his thumb slowly stroked her cheek, the sun-touched honey colored skin soft under his digit. He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made Rinna shiver.

 

“Io sono tua.” Rinna's response was barely audible. Fenlen's smile never faded as he leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers. A shared kiss, not the first of it's kind, but one of the most enjoyable for both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Io sono tua = I am yours.
> 
> Technically, this is Italian, but seeing as how Antiva is based off a city in Italy, we will go with this as the Antivan language for now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenlen meets someone new, had to happen some time.

_Fenlen walked through the glade, a sense of calm rushing through him._ _He wiggled his bare toes in the lush grass, bringing a smile to his face. In the distance, the soft murmur of a stream could be heard. Taking a deep breath, he let the sun light on his exposed skin. He couldn't remember having ever been to this place, but he wasn't about to question where in the Fade he had ended up. Master Dorian had taught him how to determine when he was in the Fade, how to know when he was in the presence of a spirit or demon, and how to protect himself against possession. The blurred edges of his vision causing things that should be in focus in his peripherals to to dance and distort. He took a deep breath, relishing on the warmth of this conjured place, when he noticed movement to his left. Quickly, he spun, eyes searching for the source. When he spotted what had caught his attention, his eyes went wide and he retreated a step. There, sitting only a few long strides away, was a spirit,_ _the likes of which he had never seen before._

 

_The two of them stood there, each watching the other, for what seemed like an eternity. The longer he watched this spirit, which appeared before him in the form of a large white wolf with three sets of stony blue eyes, the more he was convinced something wasn't quite right. Fenlen tilted his head to the side, before sitting. If this spirit of the Fade was content to watch him in peace, the least he could do was show the creature some respect. Perhaps he should try to communicate with the being._

 

_“Andaran atish'an, elgar. I mean you no harm, so long as you mean none for me.” Fenlen broke the long silence, offering the creature a proper greeting. From what he remembered of master Dorian's teachings, peaceful spirits were worthy of respect. “My name is Fenlen Lavellan. Might I inquire as to whom I am speaking?” Fenlen watched the spirit quietly, waiting for any sign it understood anything it had said. Slowly, the wolf dipped it's great head low, before standing to circle him._

 

 _“Andaran atish'an, da'len. I must say, it is quite rare for me to meet another wanderer of the Fade. I have felt your power growing, even from where I am in the waking world. I have wondered who this power belonged to, thinking perhaps it was one of my counterparts. You have answered the question, but have not sated my curiosity.” It took Fenlen a few minutes to realize that the voice he was hearing was in his mind._ _The thought that he was in danger crossed his mind, but he dismissed it quickly enough. If this spirit meant him harm, it would have done so by now._

 

 _“That is...interesting, but I can't help but notice that you still have not answered my question spirit.” Fenlen prompted again,_ _hoping that a gentle reminder would get him an answer. He had a feeling that the creature that was watching him now was no simple spirit._

 

 _“Ah yes, well I suppose_ _i_ _ntroductions are in order. I am known as Fen'Harel,_ _the Dread Wolf.” Fen'Harel let his words linger in the air, the implications swimming just below the surface. Fenlen would have to be careful so as to not anger this being, if it was who it claimed to be. “Lavellan...That is a name I have not heard in many years, and it still brings sorrow to my heart.” The spirit stopped next to Fenlen, sitting and looking into the distance as if lost in thought._

 

 _“_ _You've heard of my mother's clan? What interest would you, Fen'Harel, a god, have in a simple clan of Dalish elves?” Fenlen turned his head to face the beast, a look of confusion firmly in place. The great wolf turned his head to face the curious young boy, all six eyes trained on Fenlen._

 

_“Your mother's clan? Not your own? Do you not live amongst the Dalish yourself, da'len?” Fen'Harel tilted his head, as if confused by the boy. Fenlen dropped his gaze from the spirit, to the lush grass, as if it was the most interesting thing in all the world around him._

 

_“No, I live with my family in the great fortress Skyhold. My mother's name is Mythara, she was named the Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor, and was the one to close the great Breach some twenty odd years ago. She was Dalish, I, however, am not. I am simply the elven apostate bastard of an elven apostate.” Fenlen grinned woefully, lost in his own thoughts, idly plucking blades of grass. His companion was so quiet, he almost forgot he wasn't alone. Almost._

 

 _“_ _Your family? Did your mother have more children by this 'elven apostate'?” Fen'Harel questioned, curiosity alight in his voice, tilting his head the other direction._

 

_“No. She married a human man named Cullen, he has been a father to me for as long as I can remember. She did, however, have two children by him, my younger brother and sister. He is a good man, but I can tell that she still has deep feelings for the man who gave me life. It's a look she gets when she speaks of him. After all he did to her, all the pain he caused, she would still welcome him with open arms if he came back.” Fenlen shifted, talking about the man who would be his father always angered him. He never would have thought that someone could hold such deep hate for someone they had never met. A hushed silence fell over the pair, neither saying anything, each lost in thought. After some time had passed, the great wolf shifted to stand, turning to look at the elven mage once again, he bowed his head low._

 

_“Thank you, for talking to me. It has been such a very long time since someone hasn't looked at me in fear. Tell your mother that she did well to name you in my honor, and take care of yourself, Fenlen.” With that, Fen'Harel disappeared into nothing, as if he had never been there to begin with._

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Fenlen slowly let his eyes drift open, staring into the darkness of his bed's canopy. Questions flying around in his head, threatening to steal him from the Fade for the rest of the night. His encounter troubled him, left him with questions that may never be answered. Was that spirit truly the great Fen'Harel? Had he divulged too much information on just who he was? Why had it sought him out?

 

A weight shifting onto his chest drew his attention away from the questions. Rinna pressed her face just a little further into his shoulder and he smiled. Her presence offering a sense of calm that he was far from feeling at present. He kissed her forehead and rubbed circles into the small of her naked back. He always slept better with her there, a distraction from the rest of the world. He felt himself slipping back into the Fade, an overwhelming feeling of comfort enveloping him with her there. Maybe he would sleep just a while longer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Andaran atish'an is a greeting.  
> elgar means spirit.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sad chapter.

Rinna ran, as fast as her feet would carry her, towards Fenlen's quarters. She dashed the back of her hand across her eyes to wipe away the fresh tears that gathered there and blurred her vision. She had awoken early, and decided to start her day without waking Fenlen. She was vaguely aware that he had tossed and turned most of the night, and even in the dark of his room, she could see the circles under his eyes. New tears formed and blurred her sight once again as she ran up the stairs into the great hall, which was, thankfully, empty. The sinking feeling in her stomach told her that today was not going to be a good day.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Fenlen concentrated, pushing magic through his fingers. The familiar warm, tingling sensation signifying the transfer of healing magic. Tamlen groaned under Fenlen's hands, but remained unconscious. The captain of the guard was in bad shape. His usually dark skin was pale from blood loss, and a large gash gaped open on his side. When Rinna had roused him from his sleep, Fenlen could tell something was amiss. She had told him that the soldiers with the most recent patrol, had returned, but Tamlen and his father, the Commander, were injured. Without hesitation, he had dressed and gone to the infirmary. Master Dorian was already doing all he could for Cullen, and so Fenlen had taken over the care of Tamlen. If the Commander was anything like Tamlen, Fenlen hoped he would make it.

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Mythara had not left her husband's side in the three days since his return. Dorian had healed as much as he could, but had warned her that things did not look good. She lifted her head up, off her arms, and looked at Cullen's sleeping face. His skin was almost cold to the touch, his breathing coming in small, ragged gasps. With tears in her eyes, she reached forward to run her fingers through the gray that had formed at his temples, signaling his age.

 

“I love you. Please don't you leave me as well.” Her voice quiet, pleading. Faced with the death of her husband, Mythara prayed. To the old gods, and new; human and elven, she prayed. Something she had not done since her time with her clan. Lost in her thoughts as she was, she didn't notice the figure of the blond boy with a large brimmed hat walk into the small room. Cole quietly walked up behind her and placed a hand on Mythara's shoulder. The comfort it offered bringing new tears to her eyes.

 

“He wants you to know that he loves you. With all that he is, he loves you.” Cole whispered, breaking the long silence that had fallen between them. “He knows he is fighting a losing battle, but he is doing it for you. He doesn't want to leave you alone again.” Mythara rested her face in her hands, crying at Cole's words. Her worst fears confirmed.

 

“Does he feel the pain Cole?” Mythara asked reluctantly, her voice quivering. Not sure she was ready for the answer, she held her breath. Cole was silent for a long while, trying to find the right words to soften the blow.

 

“Yes. The pain is almost overwhelming.” Cole responded quietly, knowing it would cause his friend more anguish. Mythara stared at Cullen's face, calm and serene. After quite some time, she shifted, the tears having run their course for the time being. She turned, facing the boy, a look of grim acceptance on her countenance.

 

“Not like this. I want him to know that I will not hold him here if he is in pain.” Mythara scowled, the realization that she was letting this man go, her husband, was the hardest decision she had ever made. Accepting the small nod from Cole, she turned her attentions back to the Commander once again. “I am not alone Cullen. I have my memories, our children. You have given me more then enough happy memories to hold me over until I can see you again. I love you and I thank you, for everything.” Her bottom lip quivered, and her eyes glossed over once again with tears, threatening, but never falling. “Dareth shiral, my love, my husband. Ar lasa mala revas.”

 

Mythara stood, clasping Cullen's large hand in her own. Bringing it to her lips, she brushed a kiss across his fingers. At the head of the bed, Cole placed his hands on either side of Cullen's head and closed his eyes. A pale blue glow emanated from his hands, casting the room with an ethereal light. Mythara watched as the Commander's life slipped from him, his breathing slowing, gradually becoming less labored, until it stopped all together. What little color was left in his cheeks, disappeared, and what little warmth there was to be had in his body, left. The Commander was dead, and Mythara couldn't help but feel empty and alone once again, as she had so many years ago.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The next few days were a blur. Mythara had asked for the local Chantry Sister to perform the funeral pyre. Falon had accepted the news easily enough, being strong in the face of tragedy. Mia, her youngest child and her only daughter, had spent much time crying, and had taken to sleeping in the same bed as Mythara. She was unsure of who the action comforted more, but she would accept what comfort she could at present. Fenlen had taken the news badly. He had ended up disappearing for three days after scorching several of the murals in the rotunda. In a roundabout way, he had ended up blaming himself, figuring that the two would have never married if he hadn't been conceived to begin with. A line of thought that had, inevitably, ended with him blaming his missing father, Solas. She had been worried about him, but in a way, was glad for the quiet his disappearance had offered. She had many things to contend with, and her eldest son's self loathing was something she didn't have the emotional faculties to deal with.

 

“Mythara? I sent word to Denerim and Kirkwall, informing King Alistair, Varric and Hawke of the Commander...” Zevran stepped into the room, stopping when he realized that the woman he had been speaking to was not listening in the slightest. “Mythara?” Zevran walked over, lightly grabbing Mythara's elbow, drawing her attention away from the window.

 

“I'm sorry Zev. I just keep thinking that any moment, I'll see him riding through the gates, unharmed, with a big smile on his face. Like he had so many times before.” Her voice sounded far away, and her eyes were seeing a time not present. The Spymaster shifted his feet, feeling almost as if he was intruding on an intimate moment. “Who is left to be informed?”

 

“I have sent word to everyone that I know of. Leliana was quickest to respond, she sends her deepest sympathies, and informed us that she will be here in one month's time for the feast in Cullen's honor. Lady Montilyet has been sending word to several of her contacts, preparing for said feast. Lady Cassandra, Lady Vivienne, and Sera are already here in Skyhold, opting to visit rather then send an impersonal letter.” Zevran scowled, a thought being brought to the forefront of his mind. “Sera is, how shall I put this, most interesting. She has already managed to cause some kind of a ruckus. Something about a keg of ale going missing as well as small clothes. But, you should not be troubled with such things.” He waved a hand dismissively before continuing. “We tracked down Thom Rainier, but were informed that he, himself, had passed several winters ago. The boy Cole, is here, as you well know. I had come down here to inform you that I have sent word to Lord Hawke, Varric and King Alistair as well. That covers everyone that we have ways of informing.”

 

“Thank you Zevran, I don't know what I'd do without you. I'm not sure how Cara would manage, if she were in my current situation instead.” Mythara turned to give Zevran a small, grateful smile. She shook her head before turning her attention back to the window once again. “I'm sorry, that was uncouth of me to say. I would not wish this on anyone.”

 

“It is normal to distance oneself from this kind of situation. I understand, Mythara, and you needn't apologize. Besides, if anything were to happen to me, Cara still has Fenris. He may be somewhat rough around the edges, but he is a good man.” Zevran bowed his head in respect before placing a friendly kiss on Mythara's cheek. “We are your friends, and we are here for you. All you need to do is ask.” With that, Zevran turned and left the room quietly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried while writing this....I ACTUALLY cried. Cullen had to die though. In my mind, Mythara would never leave Cullen for Solas, so in order for Solas to reappear into her life, Cullen had to die.
> 
> Translations:  
> Dareth shiral = farewell  
> Ar lasa mala revas = You are now free.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's honorary feast. Oops. Also, Kudos and comments keep me inspired to write!

 

Long tables were set up in the great hall from one end to the other, packed with people, elbow to elbow, seated around them. Everyone imaginable was there, from Divine Victoria, to Master Dorian, and the Chargers, led by Iron Bull. The guests that surprised Fenlen most were King Alistair and his family, the Hawke family and Varric with his daughter. Even with so many familiar faces around him, Fenlen's mood was a foul one. He never cared for large crowds, and the feast honoring the man he called father was no different. He was on edge, nervous, he could feel several sets of eyes on him and could only imagine what people were saying about him. The one thing that bothered him more than that, was how everyone was so cheery. He would tolerate all these people in his home, but the least they could do was seem sympathetic. Everyone laughing, drinking and carrying on was grating on his nerves. He closed his eyes, trying to keep his anger in check. His upset must have shown on his face for Rinna, who was seated next to him, placed a reassuring hand on his forearm.

 

“Are you alright, Fen?” Concern etched in her voice. He looked up, his eyes drawn to her own brilliant blue orbs. He gave her a small smile, hoping it would be enough to convince her that he was fine. Rinna scowled, it hadn't worked. “We can find somewhere else to go. Somewhere quiet, if you need to get away from everyone for a time.” Fenlen shook his head, he knew his mother would understand if he left, but he wasn't sure how his actions would reflect on her. He didn't want to burden his mother by being seen as the ungrateful bastard who left the feast honoring the man who treated him as his own.

 

“I'll be fine. I just don't like crowds. Too many people to gawk and judge.” Fenlen took a deep breath before pinching the bridge of his nose. He could already feel the start of a headache, something he doubted very much would go away any time soon. He chanced a glance around the room, his eyes meeting the stares of others before their eyes skittered away. Fenlen smirked, nothing like being caught staring by the one you were gawking at.

 

“Would you look at that?” Rinna asked, the corners of her mouth pulled up ever so slightly. “I don't think I've ever seen Tamlen so willing to talk to anyone he just met before.” Fenlen followed her line of sight and spotted the man. Being quite possibly the tallest one in the room, aside from Iron Bull, Tamlen was easy to spot with his head full of shockingly bright white hair. He seemed to be easily conversing with King Alistair and his son, Prince Duncan. Tamlen had a smile on his face, but his discomfort was obvious.

 

“I'm not so sure he was given a choice Rinna. He looks uncomfortable, whether that's from standing too long with that wound or the conversation, I'm not sure.” Fenlen shook his head. Tamlen tended to be a quiet individual, only speaking when he thought he had something meaningful to add to a present conversation. He was known to instigate from time to time, but only amongst his closest friends and family. The boy would be quite content to sit in some tucked away corner and read, satiating his desire for knowledge. He, like Fenlen, tended to avoid crowded places. People always stopped him and commented on his obvious height which made him awkward. Fenlen wasn't sure who was more uneasy at present, himself or Tamlen. “I almost feel sorry for him.”

 

“Perhaps I should go and rescue my little brother. I'll be back in a few minutes, please don't kill anyone.” Rinna stood and placed a kiss on Fenlen's cheek before sauntering off to save Tamlen from the King and Prince of Ferelden. Fenlen watched the exchange with mild amusement. The obvious relief on Tamlen's face at his sister's interjection made Fenlen chuckle. Prince Duncan gladly turned his attention to Rinna instead of her brother. At one point, the Prince took Rinna's hand, bowed, and kissed it. He could tell that Rinna was becoming agitated by the unwelcome attention. Her face turned red and she puffed out her chest, hands balled into fists at her side, before stamping her foot and turning heel. With a dour look on her face and her shoulders scrunched in rage, she returned to her seat next to Fenlen.

 

“That man is infuriating. If I never see his smug human face again, it'll be too soon.” Rinna pouted, crossing her arms over her chest and sinking into her seat.

 

“Hey, at least your mission to rescue your brother worked. What did the Prince say that made you so angry?” Rinna glowered at the smug grin that was now firmly in place on Fenlen's face. Her current rage was a welcome distraction, enough to make him forget that several sets of eyes were still on him.

 

“He said I was beautiful...” She trailed off, there was something else to it, she wouldn't have gotten angry over that statement alone. Fenlen held out his hand and rolled it in slow circles, signaling her to finish the statement. She huffed, closing her eyes and turning her nose up at him. “For an elf. He told me I was beautiful _for an elf_. I took it as an insult, and he laughed. If it wouldn't get me killed, I'd be inclined to shove a dagger in his back for that.”

 

“Don't over think it Rinna, he is Alistair's son after all. Your mother always did say Alistair wasn't the best with putting thoughts into words.” Fenlen patted her shoulder while pulling himself to his feet. It was time for more ale, or so he thought. If he was going to make it through the evening, he was going to need to be inebriated.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

“Hahren na melana sahin. Emma ir abelas. Souver'inan isala hamin. Vhenan him dor'felas, in uthenera na revas. Vir suahn'nehn. Vir dirthera. Vir samahl la numin. Vir lath sa'vunin.” Tamlen shifted from one foot to the other. Hundreds of sets of eyes trained on him, standing in front of the throne, delivering Commander Cullen's eulogy. He lifted his eyes from the floor, looking out into the crowd, finding the courage to continue when he spotted his father. Fenris nodded, encouraging him to go on. Taking a deep breath, Tamlen continued. “Elder your time is come. Now I am filled with sorrow. Weary eyes need resting. Heart has become grey and slow, in waking sleep is freedom. We sing, rejoice. We tell the tale. We laugh and cry. We love one more day. Na via lerno victoria, Commander.” With his final words, Tamlen brought his right fist to rest over his heart and bowed his head. A final salute of honor, before descending the stairs and returning to his seat.

 

The hall remained quiet for a short while, several guests bowing their heads and saying silent prayers for the fallen Commander. Seeing many of the guests with tears in their eyes caused Fenlen's anger to rise. He closed his eyes once again, trying to keep himself in check.

 

“How dare you. How dare you all sit here and pretend to mourn, cry, while we have to stay strong.” Cole whispered, eyes wide, focused on something only he could see. At his words, Fenlen's eyes snapped open, seeking out the spirit. “Why did this happen? Doesn't mother deserve to be happy? First it was _**him**_ , leaving her spirit broken and her body with child, and now it's father. Too many people, just go away and leave our family alone. Ma halam.” Everyone in the hall gave pause, watching the boy as he spoke.

 

“Stop...” Fenlen's softly uttered plea caused Rinna, Falon, Mia and Mythara to glance his direction. He stood slowly, his magical aura crackling around him, causing the hair on their arms to stand on end. “I said **stop**!” Fenlen's hand shot out, fingers curled, as if clutching something. Several gasps and cries of alarm rang out as Cole's hands went to his throat and he stopped speaking.

 

“Fenlen! Stop this!” Falon shouted, standing to grab his brother's arm. Electricity arced and popped where his hand touched. Crying out in pain, he pulled his hand back, protectively cradling it against his chest. Mythara stood, concern and upset written on her features, tears in her eyes.

 

Fenlen stopped, eyes shifting from his target to his mother and brother. A look of horror crossed his face before he turned to sweep his gaze over the rest of the hall. All eyes were locked on him, many held fear, some pity. It was too much, too overwhelming. Shaking his head, he pushed his way past many of the guests and ran to the rotunda, the door slamming shut behind him. Mythara let out a heavy sigh, almost collapsing back into her chair.

 

“I am sorry. I can control myself. I know better than to read others thoughts, but his were too loud, too heavy. I was speaking before I knew what was happening. Mythara, I am sorry.” Cole offered an apology, on the verge of tears. Mythara walked to him, before crouching down and pulling him into a hug.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second half of the eulogy is just the first half repeated in the kings tongue instead of elven. 
> 
> Translations:  
>  Na via lerno victoria = Only the living know victory. This phrase is in Tevene, language of the Tevinter Imperium.  
> Ma halam. = You are finished. This is meant as the last thought passing through Fenlen's mind as Cole is speaking.
> 
> Thank you all for the kudos, and bookmarks, feel free to comment!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit happens, doesn't mean we don't love you anyways.

Fenlen laid on his back, staring at the canopy of his bed, idly twirling a ball of frost in his hand. The blue glow cast from the magic sending shadows sprawling across the room. He took a deep breath and sighed heavily. He was slightly surprised that no one had come to bother him after his outburst in the great hall. Surprised, but grateful. He would have to apologize to his mother after all this had blown over, her and Cole both. He had never meant to let his anger get the better of him, and it was something that he needed to work on. He wondered if his father, the apostate that helped close the breach, had issues with his anger when he was younger. Was it that or were his anger issues his own doing? Could such things even be passed down from parent to child? A knock on the door drew him from his thoughts.

 

“It's open.” Fenlen called out, sitting up on his bed. Mia entered his room and he dismissed the ball of frost, sending snowflakes flying in a small arc. Mia closed the door with a soft click before slowly walking over and sitting on the bed next to her oldest brother. She watched him for several minutes in silence. “How upset is everyone?” Fenlen asked, not able to bring himself to look at the disappointment he knew was on her face.

 

“Well, you caused quite a ruckus.” Mia started quietly, twisting her mouth to worry her bottom lip. “I don't think anyone is mad per se. I think you surprised everyone more than anything. Cole was crying to mother and upset on _your_ behalf. He blames himself and believes he forced your hand in the matter. He knows that speaking other people's thoughts is something he shouldn't do.” Fenlen scoffed, but nodded for Mia to continue. “I believe Lady Morrigan and Master Dorian were discussing the wonders of your magical ability when I left….” She trailed off, looking up and putting her pointer finger to her lips, trying to remember what else there was to tell. “Oh! Your little outburst did cause the most awkward conversation I think I've ever seen in my life though.”

 

“Really? What was that?” Fenlen asked, his curiosity getting the better of him as he looked at his sister expectantly. Mia was grinning from ear to ear, a smile that reached all the way to her large, doe brown eyes. His sister's brilliant smile causing Fenlen to smile, despite himself.

 

“Well, as everyone was shuffling about the hall, I was standing by Tam and we were discussing everyone's reaction. More observing, really. One of the nobles, I can't remember which one, said something about you being a danger and needing to be slapped into irons and dragged off to the nearest Circle tower.” Fenlen sneered at the idea, Mia held up her hand, stalling whatever retort was forming in his mind. “Well, imagine everyone's surprise when, who, of all people, should speak up, but Fenris. He said if he learned anything from the incident at Kirkwall so many years ago, it was that mages were not creatures to be slapped in a cage. That everyone deserved freedom and that if they did try to send you to the tower, it would only be a matter of time before you managed to escape, or someone came to your rescue. He said you were a good lad, with a good head on your shoulders, and that the world needed more people like you, mage or not!” Mia giggled in delight at the last statement, her face full of pride, hands clasped together in front of her chest.

 

“Well….If he said all that, I'm surprised. I think that's the most I've heard of him saying anything at once. But that isn't an awkward conversation, Mia, just Fenris putting some smug noble in their place.” Fenlen shook his head, his sister's hands reaching out to grab his shoulders.

“That was just what _lead_ to the awkward conversation. I got to watch the first interaction between Fenris and Master Hawke since they parted ways!” Fenlen's eyes went wide in shock, his eyebrows shot up to disappear in the stray strands of hair that fell into his face. “After the nobleman left, Hawke approached Fenris and asked what had changed his mind when it came to mages. Fenris told Hawke that he had come to realize that it was mages like Anders and Danarius that had colored his views in a foul light. But after traveling with Hawke for so long, and then meeting Dorian and Vivienne, he decided that those mages who sought power over others were the minority, not the majority. He said that he had watched you grow up, and while you did need to control your temper lest it get you in trouble, you were a bright lad with a good head on your shoulders.” Fenlen smiled, to receive such a compliment from Fenris was an honor. “Hawke took the compliment easily enough and said that those who seek power are usually the first to abuse what they have, and those that have great power are usually the last ones to use it. Fenris agreed and then they just stood there, looking at each other awkwardly, not knowing what to say next.”

 

“What does one say in that situation though Mia? 'I'm sorry I broke your heart and left you to be with someone who could carry on my family?' That doesn't seem quite adequate to me.” Fenlen raised an eyebrow at his sister, hoping she would see his point. Mia rolled her eyes and nodded in agreement.

 

“I can understand that logic, but I don't think Fenris regrets what happened. If that hadn't happened, he would have never met Cara and Zevran and he never would have started a family. Without Hawke dumping Fenris, we wouldn't have Tamlen and Leto. And you know how much Fenris loves his sons.” Mia pointed out, something that Fenlen would have to agree on. “I wonder if mother feels the same way. When it comes to her time with your father, that is. I imagine she has to, I believe that if given the chance, she wouldn't change a thing.” Mia leaned forward and kissed her brother's cheek before giving him a hug. “You really should come back down to the hall, I was sent up here to fetch you after all.” She gave him a wink, then stood and walked to the door. “We still love you, you know. Even if you don't love yourself. We're your family after all, that's what we do.” Without another word, Mia stepped out into the hall, the door sending a resounding click echoing through the room.

 

Fenlen sat there for a time, thinking on his sister's parting words. He knew his family loved him, he never questioned that. She was right about one thing though, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find it within him to love himself. How could he love himself when he was obviously a mistake? Fenlen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, something he was told his father did frequently. He rose to his feet and rolled his head around, loosening the tight muscles in his neck. Best get the uncomfortable apologies aside as soon as possible.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Solas awoke, darkness surrounding him on all sides, almost oppressive. He sat up and forced himself to focus on the small, flickering flame of the veil fire. Something had pulled him back to the waking world, out of the fade. The pressure of magic, similar to his own, yet different somehow, still lingered in the air. Solas wondered how long he could actively avoid going to Skyhold. He had spent the better part of the past two and a half decades wondering the wilds far to the west. Finding the lost city of Arlathan had been the easy part, searching the ruins of what remained had proved to be the tricky part. Solas, however, had been rewarded for his efforts. It had taken time, but he had found his way back to the lost Temple of Fen'Harel. Seemingly untouched by time itself, little in the temple had suggested it's age or disuse. It was there that he had spent much of his time away, recovering most of the power that had been lost to him, little by little.

 

Solas blinked and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose to dismiss the fog that lingered. He was stalling, and he knew it. What good would hiding in ruins, chasing memories of times long since gone, do when the answers he wanted were to be found in the present? He had questions that he expected answered, one in particular was a burning ember, ever growing in the forefront of his mind. If he did not find the answer soon, the fire would ignite and consume him. Was the boy he had sought out in the Fade _truly_ his son?

 

He sighed, grabbing his staff he pulled himself to his feet. It was time he finally went back to Skyhold. It was time he finally got some answers. And gave some of his own.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More funzies!!!

“So Fen, are you feeling better now, after your little outburst? Or are you out for blood, in one of your foul moods?” Falon asked as his older bother walked into the room. The only answer Falon received was his brother snorting, rolling his eyes, and shaking his head. Their sister, Mia, scowled at Falon, while the others in the room waited quietly for any sign as to whether or not there would be a fight. All around the room, the children of those who were called 'hero' at some point, were seated. From the whole group that lived in Skyhold, to Prince Duncan and his sister, Princess Gwen. Grace, Varric's daughter, sat at one end of the table next to Leandra, the eldest of the Hawke children. The tension was thick, everyone holding their breath, content to watch and wait.

 

“Falon, you're an idiot.” Tamlen was the first to break the silence. Barely visible in the far corner of the room, the light of the fire hardly reaching him. The man's deep, course voice, so much like his father's, causing a couple of the guests in the room to jump at the realization that he had been there all along. Falon cast a scowl in Tamlen's general direction. A deep chuckle echoed from the darkness.

 

“You know Tam, I _would_ challenge you to a fight between men, but you'd have to actually _be_ a man to qualify.” Falon instigated. Those who lived in the castle knew Falon to be the one to turn any situation into one filled with laughter. A smirk edged it's way onto his face, causing the man to be a clone of his father, the late Commander. The Skyhold brood rolled their eyes collectively, knowing where this conversation was headed, while their guests were left ill at ease, trying to figure out what was going on. The quiet that still lingered in the room was broken by the sound of a book softly closing and being set on a table.

 

“You didn't complain about me being man enough last time we were alone in the barracks, Falon.” Tamlen leaned forward into the light, a smug grin firmly in place, resting his elbows on his knees. His large, green eyes laughing at the flush that crept up Falon's face. At the end of the table, Grace stifled a giggle, catching on quickly enough to the turn of events. Tamlen watched her as she covered her mouth and pretended to cough, the rosy apples of her cheeks giving her smile away. Everyone watched as Falon opened and closed his mouth several times, appearing very much like a fish out of water. Finally, he settled on downing the last of the ale in his mug in one, long draft.

 

“Well played, my friend.” Falon choked, before belching loudly. The Prince was the first to laugh, a hearty sound, full bodied and joyous. Before long, everyone else in the room followed suit. The tension had finally been broken and Fenlen lightly smacked his brother in the back of the head as he walked past to take his seat. “What? I broke the awkward tension in the room, didn't I?” Falon asked, rubbing the spot on the back of his head where his brother's hand had connected.

 

“Actually, I believe that it was Tamlen who successfully did that.” Fenlen leaned forward, grabbing the pitcher off the table and pouring himself a mug of ale. “Besides, of the people in this room that we know, I believe that _I'm_ the only one who can claim to 'truly be a man'.” Fenlen gave his brother a knowing look while leaning back in his seat and taking a swig of his drink.

 

“By all the Gods. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. _Please_ spare us the details.” Leto, the younger of Fenris' and Cara's children, piped in. A through look of disgust twisting his face as his tongue flicked out in a mock gag. “I know there are at least three of us in this room who _really_ don't want to hear about your exploits with our sister.” A few confused looks fluttered around the room.

 

“I think it really only bothers you, Leto. Rinna tells me everything, and I've never known TamTam to care about much of anything if it wasn't a book or a sword.” Ashalle shrugged. The youngest of the siblings, Ashalle was quite possibly the sweetest. Rinna, the eldest, had grown up with the boys and always felt inclined to prove herself. Tamlen, the second child, was quiet, genuine, and one of the best swordsmen in Thedas. Leto, the second youngest, was very good at being sarcastic, and known to be a bit dramatic at times. But Ashalle was the youngest in the family, and the youngest of the group. She had never been known to take offense to anything, and was usually the peace maker between the rest of her siblings.

 

“What are we talking about?” Rinna asked, finally slipping into the room and closing the door behind herself. She strolled over to the table, grabbing some of the grapes off the platter set in the middle before popping one in her mouth. In the corner, Tamlen snorted before picking his abandoned book back up and resting his feet on the table in front of him.

 

“I believe they were discussing your escapades with Fen.” Tamlen supplied easily enough, not looking up from what he was reading. Rinna turned to pin Fenlen with a glare and the man threw his hands up in defense. “On that note, may I please request that you keep your volume to a minimum, or the balcony doors closed. You two proved quite the distraction for my night guardsmen two evenings ago.” Rinna smiled at her brother before taking a seat across Fenlen's lap, carefully resting her legs across the arm of the chair.

 

“Well _TamTam_ , perhaps you need to train your guards better. I mean, if they get distracted _that_ easily.” Rinna situated a grape between her lips before rolling it into her mouth with her tongue and biting into it with an obnoxious crunch. “And you really should come and _actually_ join us, reading in the dark isn't good for your eyes.” She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow at Tamlen, who rolled his eyes and kept reading.

 

“Not that the banter isn't interesting, but are we going to get around to playing Wicked Grace? That _is_ why we're all here, isn't it?” Grace interjected, placing a deck of cards on the table and drawing everyone's attention. With a round of nods and murmurs of agreement from almost everyone, she shuffled the deck and dealt the cards. “Let's just hope Curly Junior here is better at this game than his father supposedly was.”

 

The rest of the evening was filled with stories and laughter. New friendships were born and the night ended with poor Falon making the same mad dash for his quarters that his father had years before. They even managed to coax Tamlen away from his book, he and the Prince having a half drunken, friendly duel in the courtyard. Come morning, the King's family and many others would be heading back to their homes. Even with all the merriment, something still didn't seem quite right to Fenlen. Something was coming that would change life for him, he could feel it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must say, I know Fenlen's family is the main focus of this story, but I absolutely LOVE, love, love, love, love Tamlen. There will most likely be a story for him later.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No Solas/Inky family action yet. Next chapter or two, I promise

It had been just over a month since the honorary feast, most of the guests had left, save for a few. Mythara had asked Hawke to stay, at Dorian's behest, and help with Fenlen's magical studies. Having no pressing matters to attend to at present, and enjoying being back in his homeland, Hawke had readily agreed. He had been amazed at how quickly the young man had learned what he had to teach. Fenlen had mastered all Hawke could teach about being a force mage within the first two weeks. They had since moved on to mastering spirit healing, which was proving to be slightly more difficult for him. Lady Morrigan had given Fenlen some lessons on how to shapeshift, which again, he had picked up quickly enough. She had told him that it was the magic within him that chose the form, not the mage. Dorian had found it humorous at the time, that when the dust had settled, Fenlen's magic had changed his form to that of a large, black wolf. Mythara had simply stated that it was a good thing he had the name he did, it suited him more so now than it had before.

 

Varric had taken up residence, once again, in the great hall, near the fire. When Hawke had announced that he was going to stay, Varric had mumbled something about Kirkwall not being the same without him and had firmly planted his rear end in the nearest chair. Grace, Varric's daughter, had shrugged at her father's stubbornness and had since settled nicely into life in Skyhold. She and Rinna spent most afternoons down at the archery range, having simple contests and sharing stories. Grace had been surprised to learn that Rinna and Fenlen were not, in fact, betrothed. When Rinna explained to her that Fenlen was just a really, _really_ good friend, Grace had laughed heartily and given Rinna a pat on the back. When she wasn't seen down at the archery range with Rinna, or in the great hall near her father, Grace could be found in the barracks. After the first week, she had approached Tamlen, and pestered the man to the point of frustration. Something that surprised almost everyone. After his unexpected outburst, the two had made amends and she was stunned to learn that he was not only impressive with a sword, but full of knowledge. After a particularly heavy night of drinking and games, she discovered that he spoke Antivan, Tevene, Qunlat, and Elven fluently as well as enough Ander and Dwarven to be considered competent. The next morning, when she had asked him about it, he had responded that with three parents and more books then he knew what to do with, there was no reason he shouldn't be well educated. The two had been incredibly close since then, though not in a romantic sense.

 

“Mythara, I hate to ask, but I need a favor.” Hawke asked, seating himself next to the Inquisitor. Mythara looked up from the book she had been reading to face the elder mage. The elven woman raised her eyebrows and hummed, indicating the man should continue. “Well, my youngest daughter, Bethany, did not come with us. When we left, she was assisting one of the senior enchanters with some critical research. I received word that her research is complete and she would like to come here, seeing as how we're staying until further notice.”

 

“She is, of course, welcome to stay here, as the rest of you are, Garrett.” Mythara gave the man a smile before taking a drink of the tea she had set before her. “I get the feeling that this is not your request, however.” She watched as Hawke nodded, confirming her suspicions.

 

“She is on her way already, Mythara. I was hoping, if it were possible, to send someone to meet her in Gwaren. You see, Bethany is a mage, and while mages aren't kept locked up in towers as much as they once were, it is still highly uncommon to see one traveling without a Templar escort.” Hawke grimaced, knowing how bad the situation looked from the outside. “Bethany doesn't pose a danger, but I am concerned for her safety.”

 

“Who do we need a Templar for?” Falon asked while striding into the room before promptly biting into an apple. Upon reaching his mother, he bent over and kissed her cheek before taking a seat next to her. “We don't exactly have many of them in Skyhold after all.”

 

“Lord Hawke's daughter, Bethany. He was requesting an escort for her from Gwaren. I know we have a few spare sets of the armor, but I'm not certain anyone has the proper training anymore.” Mythara supplied, annoyance crossing her features as she thought on their conundrum. “Who would you suggest sending, Falon?”

 

“Well, if you just need someone to protect her from the simple village folk who would see a mage and lynch them, I think Tamlen has the best intimidation factor. I'm sure he'd be happy to do it, though I'm not sure you'd be able to convince him to go without assistance.” Falon suggested, shrugging before propping his boots up on the table and finishing off his apple. “Grace is good with a crossbow, and I don't think I've seen Tam off duty without her recently. Something or other about teaching her some language, I'm not sure which one.” Falon waved his hand in front of his face dismissively. “The only issue I think you'll have is finding one of the Templar suits that will actually fit him.”

 

“Well, perhaps not the only issue.” Hawke interjected, a grimace crossing his face again. “It's not just that I need someone to escort her here from Gwaren, that's just the first part. One of Bethany's childhood friends is currently a serving girl at the castle in Denerim, and I've been asked watch over her. The girl's father passed away recently leaving her mother to care for the family business. She is aware that we won't be leaving any time soon, she only requested that we watch over her daughter and keep her safe.” Hawke shifted in his seat, he knew that asking for someone to go all the way to Gwaren was a tall enough order on it's own.

 

“Oh-ho! That's even better. I'm almost tempted to go with him, just to see the people of Denerim's reaction to the tallest elf in existence!” Falon laughed, slapping his knee to emphasize how amusing he found the idea. The disapproving glare Mythara shot her youngest son silenced his enthusiasm and he settled on a cough to cover his still present smile.

 

“It's settled then, Tamlen will go.” Mythara announced, hitting the bottoms of her son's boots, signaling that he should remove them from the table. “Go let him know, and gather his supplies for him. Even on a mount, it'll take about as much time for him to reach Gwaren as it will the ship.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Tamlen tightened the strap on the saddle, ensuring he wouldn't fall off the heavy warhorse. Falon had met him on the eastern battlement with arms full of old Templar armor and a mischievous grin on his face. He had informed Tamlen that he had been nominated to go to Gwaren to retrieve Master Hawke's youngest daughter, Bethany. From there, he would be heading north, to Denerim to retrieve a friend of hers before coming back to Skyhold. Tamlen had figured out easily enough that the girl must be a mage, hence the need for the ill-fitted armor. When he asked who would be accompanying him, Falon had given him a toothy grin and said that Grace had volunteered. Luckily, Lady Mythara had insisted that Falon gather all the supplies that Tamlen and Grace would need for the trek.

 

“Hey there Snowflake, you do know that dwarves don't ride horses, right?” Grace sauntered up to him, crossbow slung over one shoulder and her pack over the other. She stopped next to him and tilted her head back to look at the beast, until she was looking almost straight up.

 

“What? Can't sit in the saddle properly?” Tamlen asked, giving her a playful grin.

 

“It's not the straddling something that big that's the issue, Snowflake.” She gave him a wink and he chuckled. “There's just something about a creature that big between your legs deciding it's going to go out of control that I personally don't like.” Grace shifted uncomfortably, from one foot to the other. “Isn't there anything smaller in this stable?”

 

“Horses are less conspicuous than any of the other mounts available here. We're trying to not draw attention to ourselves, remember? If you don't feel comfortable riding on your own, you can ride with me and we'll keep the supplies on the other horse.” Tamlen offered, hoping to end this argument before it started. Grace nodded in agreement before handing him her pack to secure onto the second horse. With any luck they'd set out within the hour and reach Gwaren within a fortnight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I wrote this chapter for two reasons:  
> 1) This gives you, the reader, the knowledge as to why Tamlen isn't in Skyhold when dear old dad shows up.  
> 2) This is the jumping off point for the story I plan on writing for Tam.
> 
> Edit: So, I finally finished writing the first chapter of Tamlen's story. It's up and can be found here - http://archiveofourown.org/works/3478559/chapters/7637888


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People talk.

Her delicate fingers were splayed out, her hands pressing into his bare chest. His hands were on her hips, guiding her, helping her keep their rhythm. Together, they were panting, sweating, their bodies moving in unison. The pressure of his manhood deep inside her body was an overwhelmingly pleasant feeling. Rinna's head fell back and she let out a deep moan, her fingers digging into Fenlen's chest, eliciting a moan of his own. Firmly grasping her hips to steady her, he gave a few, quick thrusts before shifting his weight and rolling over on top of her. She wrapped her legs around his lean hips and ground herself against him. He chuckled and clicked his tongue against his teeth, chastising her for trying to keep control.

 

 “Please Fen, don't stop.” Rinna pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. With a smile on his lips, he leaned down, kissing her deeply while slowly thrusting into her. The movements sending waves of pleasure coursing through their bodies. Fenlen moved his attentions from her mouth, down her jaw line and came to rest on her neck. Rinna closed her eyes, concentrating on the combination of sensations. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and reached up with one hand to run her fingers through his hair. The blue-black tresses feeling like silk in her hands. Their breathing coming out in stilted pants, joined in unison, building to a crescendo, the only thing breaking the silence of the chill autumn morning. “Per gli dèi, Fenlen.” Rinna moaned, arching her back up again, pressing her body against his. A sudden knock at the door reached their ears only moments before it opened and Falon cleared his throat announcing his presence. Scrambling to cover themselves, Fenlen threw an annoyed look at his brother, who at least had the good graces to look uncomfortable at intruding.

 

“What do you want?” Fenlen growled as Rinna extracted herself from under him and slid out from under the covers. Glancing at Falon, Fenlen smirked as he watched his brother turn red, shift from foot to foot, and turn his attention away from his brother's bed. _Serves the intruding shit right._ Fenlen thought, rolling over onto his back before letting out a exasperated sigh.

 

“I was sent, by mother mind you, to tell you that she would like to see you as soon as possible.” Falon responded, his right hand flying up to grasp the back of his neck, a nervous habit he picked up from his father. “I...I'll be leaving now.” Falon turned to leave, his hand firmly on the door. “Please don't make me explain why you're late.” He tossed over his shoulder before hurrying out of the room and closing the door firmly behind him.

 

“What do you suppose is so urgent?” Rinna asked, stepping out of Fenlen's closet and pulling one of his simple linen shirts over her head. Fenlen let out a deep sigh and sat up, annoyed that his plesent afternoon was not likely to happen.

 

“I'm not sure, but considering mother sent for me, I'm certain it's actually important. She knows what we tend to do when we're alone, she knew you were with me this afternoon, and she still sent Falon to physically collect me.” Fenlen answered, combing his fingers through his hair and grimmacing as his fingers caught in several of the tangles that had collected. “Remind me later to ask Mia to braid this for me, and cut the sides short again, it's starting to get itchy.” Rinna chuckled, coming to kneel behind Fen, she combed his hair back into a ponytail and wrapped a thin strip of leather around it to hold it on place. “Ma serannas, Rinna.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Fenlen took a deep breath, his hand resting on the handle to the war room. He had never before been summoned to the war room, and the implications of it now had his stomach doing flips. Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath to try to calm his rioting insides before looking at the door and pushing it open. Fenlen stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a loud _thud_ , all conversation in the room prior to his entry had stopped. He looked at the group who was gathered, noting that not only were his mother and spymaster Zevran there, but Lord Hawke, Varric, Dorian, Iron Bull and Lady Cassandra were there as well. Fenlen shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot as all eyes were on him.

 

“Fenlen, da'len...” Mythara said, taking a deep breath to calm her own obviously shaken nerves. Varric stepped up next to her, resting his hand on the small of her back and giving her a reassuring nod.

 

“Go on Boots, he diserves to know.” Varric supplied, to which Bull and Cassandra nodded and grunted in agreeance.

 

“Fenlen, Zevran received a raven earlier today, one of the scouts at Griffion Wing Keep sent word that an elven mage stopped in passing, resupplying. When asked where he was headed, he said that he was going to see his son at Skyhold.” Mythara explained, taking several steps forward, closing the distance between herself and her eldest son. Placing her hands on either side of Fenlen's face, she pressed on. “I understand if you do not wish to be here when he arrives, but I'm afraid that even if you were to run, he would find you. Ar lath ma, da'len. I will do everything in my power to protect you and your siblings.” Fenlen watched, in shock, as tears sprung to life in his mother's eyes. He smiled sweetly, finding his composure again, and wiped away the fresh tears trailing down his mother's cheeks.

 

“I will stay mother, you have lost one you love, I would not put you through losing another so quickly.” Fenlen responded, kissing Mythara's forehead and pulling her forward into a hug. “I think I've known he would come eventually. Mamae, I can feel him. It's strange, but I can feel his magic calling to me. I promise to behave myself as well.” Mythara choked out a chuckle, knowing her son's temper, and was relieved to have his promise to mind his manners. She had given her son the knowledge that his father would be coming, giving him time to prepare himself mentally. She only hoped she could do the same in the short amount of time they had before Solas' arrival back in Skyhold since the defeat of Corypheus.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus and the shortish chapter, I had things crop up in the real world. Hopefully I can make updating this a regular thing again.
> 
> Per gli dèi = By the Gods


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas!!!

Mythara was curled in the plush armchair tucked away in the far corner of her quarters. She had found herself restless and unable to sleep after receiving the news of Solas' imminent arrival earlier in the day. Still, she had laid in bed, snuggled close with Mia, until the girl had fallen asleep. She had silently thanked the Maker that Cullen was no longer alive to see everything that was happening now. She loved him dearly, but she didn't know how she would handle seeing her former lover again. Her feelings were complicated and her heart ached for a great number of reasons.

 

She worried her bottom lip while focusing her attention out the windows to the balcony and found comfort in the silence that filled the room in the dead of night. She had lost herself in her thoughts, when a soft green glow in her peripheral vision caught her attention. Curious, she turned in her seat, searching out the source. When her eyes fell on _**his**_ form, her breathing hitched before all the air in her lungs escaped her in a single rush and her head spun. Before she could stop herself, her feet carried her over to stand in front of him. Neither spoke, simply lost in the sight of the other there before them after so long. She couldn't believe how little he had changed. She noted that there was now a deeper crease between his eyes, but nothing else.

 

“Mythara, ma vhenan...” Solas said, taking a tentative step forward, arms out to the side, welcoming. Time slowed to a crawl, the moment stretching on for what seemed to be an eternity. Then the sound of skin hitting skin echoed thru the room, a shocked expression crossing his face as blood rushed to his cheek where she had struck him. Where before she was breathless, now her chest heaved with anger.

 

“How dare you.” Mythara whispered in a harsh tone. Her shoulders shook with the force of her rage, hands balled into fists at her sides, with her head down but her eyes never breaking contact. Solas' eyebrows shot up in surprise and he opened his mouth to speak only to have her cut him off. “How dare you come back now.” Redirecting her anger, she began to pace back and forth in the space in front of him as she continued. “You left me twenty three years ago. No explanation, just left. You left me with nothing but a trinket and a child growing within me, a son, who holds nothing but contempt for you, the father who abandoned us both.” Her emotions, running high, began to win the battle, bringing tears to her eyes with them. “And now you return, after the man who stayed to pick up the pieces of who I once was, is dead. Now you return, when I am a widow and my children are left fatherless.” She finally turned, eyes full of tears and red rimmed, to face the man who had continued to remain silent. “And for what? Do you think I am still the same innocent, young woman who foolishly gave my heart and body to you, Fen'Harel?” She stood before him, chin raised high, defiant, even as the tears in her eyes began to spill over, coursing trails down her cheeks.

 

“I...” Solas began, his brows drawing together, the crease between them stretching farther upward. His gaze faltered, falling to the floor as he took the time he needed to gather his thoughts before his steely blue gaze met hers once again. “How long have you known?”

 

“There is a reason your son's name is Fenlen.” Mythara answered, her face softening as her anger lessened and she took her eyes off her visitor to glance at her daughter, still sound asleep on the bed.

 

“How?” He asked, spoken as more of a command then a real question. Mythara ignored his tone, instead opting to answer in her own time, her gaze never leaving Mia. After several long minutes, she took a deep breath and crossed her arms, as if to keep herself warm from some imagined cold.

 

“I figured it out fairly quickly after you left.” Finally turning to face him again, she found she had his full attention. “Voices in my head from drinking from the Well of Sorrows and all. They got louder, more insistent while I was pregnant with Fenlen.” She hugged herself tighter, almost as if she was afraid of admitting this all to him. “I'm unsure if it was due to his magic, or yours. Whatever it was, their words eventually started to sound less jumbled, they started making sense. When I started to understand is when the images started coming. Only glimpses of lost cities, a time when the veil did not separate the fade from the world of the waking...Eventually I was getting whole memories, events from a time long lost to the people of today. That is when I saw you, and I just...knew.” The expression on her face quickly turned to one of sadness and exhaustion. “Garas quenathra, Solas? Is that even really your name?”

 

“Yes. I was Solas first, 'Fen'Harel' came later...An insult I took as a badge of pride. The Dread Wolf inspired hope in my friends and fear in my enemies....not unlike 'Inquisitor', I suppose...” He explained, taking a step towards her, in hopes that she would further let him explain himself. “You have earned your anger. But I am not the monster the Dalish painted.”

 

“Ma harel lasa, Solas.” Mythara interjected, the pain in her voice almost a physical entity.

 

“Only by omission.” He replied, the sides of his mouth pulled down into a frown, pain written in his eyes. “I tried so hard to deny you physically. I did not wish to lay with you under false pretenses. And yet it was you who denied any defense I offered, breaking my resolve in one glorious motion with nothing more then a softly uttered admission and a shy smile. Ir abelas, ma vhenan. I never wanted to cause you this much pain.” He took another step toward her, stretching out a hand in offering, silently hoping she would take it and lend him some of her strength.

 

“Halam'shivanas.” Mythara said, the words dripping with venom. “Ma banal las halamshir var vhen, Solas.” It was his turn to pull away from her, retracting his hand so quickly, it was as if her words had reached out and bitten him. New tears spilled from her eyes, it had hurt her as much to say as it had him to hear.

 

“What would you have had me say? That I was a great adversary in your people's mythology? That I was the great Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf here to lead you to your undoing?” He asked, his temper flaring as he tried to get his point across, tried to make her see how foolish her words were.

 

“I would have had you _**trust**_ me!” She snapped back, her own anger rising to meet his head on. “You claimed to _**love**_ me! And as foolish as it was, I loved you. With all my being, I loved you, and Maker preserve me, I still do! Had you taken the time to _**tell**_ me, educate me on what _**really**_ happened, I would have understood.” He opened his mouth, intent on pointing out how much more devout in her faith she had been back then, when her hand flew up to stop him. “Instead, I had to learn thru skewed memories and emotions that weren't even mine. I had to sift thru what I saw and felt to figure out the truth for myself and even now I am unsure if what I know is true.”

 

“I sought to set my people free from slavery to would-be gods. I broke the chains of all who wished to join me. The false gods called me Fen'Harel, and when they finally went too far, I formed the Veil and banished them forever. Thus I freed the elven people and, in doing so, destroyed the world I knew.” Solas explained, hoping to clear up any confusion she had.

 

“What did they do to make you move against them?” Mythara asked, giving in to her curiosity after years of not knowing the truth from all sides.

 

“They killed Mythal.” Solas chuckled bitterly. “A crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment.” A bitter, sad sneer settled across his face, even so, his words were genuine.

 

“But I thought Mythal was one of the Evanuris. And I met her, before my fight with Corypheus.” Mythara said, confusion etched in every line of her face.

 

“The elven legends of immortality? All true.” He said, pressing on to further his explanation. “The first of my people do not die so easily. The Evanuris are banished forever, paying the ultimate price for their misdeeds.” His face softened and his eyes grew distant, remembering a time so very long ago. “She was the best of them. She cared for her people. She protected them. She was the voice of reason. And in their lust for power, they killed her.” A silence settled between them, both digesting the conversation. Mythara shifted from foot to foot before finally being the one to break the quiet.

 

“Why come back now? I can not stress enough how poor your timing is.” The anger and bitterness that had kept her standing her ground had ebbed, and it left her feeling exhausted and unwilling to continue playing his game of dancing around real answers.

 

“To meet my son. To see you again. To tell you of my plans so you can tell me how foolish I am being, help me see the right thing to do.” He answered, stepping closer and closing the gap between them. “Take your pick, all the answers I just gave you are true.” Gently, he cupped her face in his hands, bringing his own closer. “I tried to forget you, tried to ignore the pain of leaving you. It was as if my heart had been torn from my chest and held aloft in front of my eyes, taunting me. I have missed you beyond measure. Ir mala, ma vhenan.” He whispered, his quiet words and close proximity causing her eyes to flutter closed of their own volition. His lips lightly pressed to hers, an unspoken promise, and as quickly as it began, it ended. Still, it had left her breathless, and her eyes fluttered open, searching for a reason as to the briefness of it. Their eyes met, and in them, she saw a softness and longing that had not been there before. Pressing his forehead to hers, his own eyes fluttered closed, a deep sigh escaping him. “For now, it might be best for you to _wake up._ ”

 

 

_Mythara's eyes snapped open and she sat straight up in the small bed, drawing a whimper from her daughter still sleeping next to her._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, let me say that I am extremely sorry that it took me TWO YEARS to finally update this. I lost my inspiration and just.....couldn't find it again until recently-ish. No promises that updates will come regularly, but please bare with me, I do have a plan.  
> Secondly, you will notice that I took quite a few dialogue options from Trespasser for this, it fit well into my head cannon.  
> Third.....this whole freaking chapter, in Solas fashion, was a dream....except the italics at the very end.  
> Thank you all so so so soooooooo much for reading and please feel free to leave me a comment telling me how much you like this, or how horrible of a person I am for letting this sit for so long.
> 
> Garas quenathra, Solas? = Why have you come, Solas?  
> Ma harel lasa, Solas. = You lied to me, Solas.  
> Ir abelas, ma vhenan. = I am filled with sorrow for your loss, my heart.  
> Halam'shivanas. = The sweet sacrifice of duty.  
> Ma banal las halamshir var vhen, Solas. = You do nothing to further your people, Solas.  
> Ir mala, ma vhenan. = I am yours, my heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I'm kinda crazy for several reasons. So, obviously my inquisitor romanced Solas, but Cullen is so damn cute when he's embarrassed that it's hard to resist flirting. It wouldn't be a huge stretch to think that left in the wake of heartbreak after defeating Coryphiefish, or whatever, that Boots wouldn't try to move on from Chuckles to Curly. Second, yeah, Fenris and Zev and my warden. Again, it's not a stretch to think that since Hawke is from a noble family, there would be a sense of "duty" to carry on the family, and would break things off with Fenris.
> 
> Translations:  
> Ar lath ma, vhenan. = I love you, my heart.  
> Abelas, ma vhenan. Ma nuvenin sahlin then. = Sorry, my heart. You need now awaken.  
> Fenlen = wolf child  
> Ma enansal. Ma da'len. Abelas, Fenlen = My blessing. My little child. Sorry, Fenlen.


End file.
